Reminiscence
by Growing Pain
Summary: [Oneshot] 'Mourning turned into pity, pity turned into isolation, and isolation turned into habit'. A reflection made by a man who never had the power to change.


**Disclaimer:** Never owned any show. I'll let you know if I do, just to rub it in your face. Just kidding!

**Warning:** Perhaps some spoilers for Digimon Adventure.

**Notes:** The POV is from Hioraki Ishida to his son Yamato Ishida (aka Matt Ishida). This takes place after the first season and before the second one. Also, this has been edited. Hurray for better grammar!

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**Reminiscence**

_**by Growing Pain**_

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It's late as I sneak inside. I missed dinner again. But I was never really the one to be on time. Never the one to be reliable. With this truth I have let many people down, and I curse myself for it everyday.

My eyes search for life inside this apartment, but fail to find any. This revelation comes as a surprise as it's only half past eight. You should be awake. Watching the television or listening to music. A normal habit you have, but still everything is quiet.

For a second my mind gets occupied by fear, a fear that you might not be here and might not be safe. The rational side of me pushes the thought away but I have investigate, to know if you are missing.

After noticing that your door is closed I gently open it, only to find your blonde mass of hair on the bed. With that I sigh out in relief. I don't know why I suddenly got that uneasy feeling anyway. And I shrug it off, returning to the hall to take off the coat and jacket.

My eyes are tired and my body alike. But the stomach won't allow me to sleep as it screams from hunger. I walk to the fridge, hoping to find something easy to make. As I open the door I see a new dish inside. It must be the leftovers from today.

I smile tiredly, since you had the consideration to make enough for me. You're a good man, son. A man I continue to let down. That guilt haunts me everyday at some point. I try to justify it, my never being there. The fact that work always comes first. I try to convince myself I do it for you, so you can have money and financial stability.

But that is only a small part of the real truth. Most days I fool myself and trust that lie so the guilt won't come.

To be honest everything started after the separation. Of course I worked a lot back then as well, and I wasn't the most affectionate one in the bunch. She started to think I didn't care, or that I had an affair since I always came home late. Many arguments were made when the two of you were sleeping in oblivion. But one day she had had enough, and I can't really blame her.

The divorce came and the family was split in two. It caused you much pain, as it did to me. But it really destroyed you, and shred you to pieces. It is all my fault, that I know. As did you.

The first months your eyes were filled with sorrow and hate, and I didn't know what to do. I have never been the one to hug someone, or tell them how much I love them, or to just simply comfort. I suppose my behaviour influenced you. You distanced yourself from people and started to slip in school. You never spoke to me, not in words anyway. Those cold eyes you had said it all.

But it was justified, that hate of yours. As it was my fault. I failed you. I failed her. And I failed your younger brother. Nothing can ever change that. Somehow I was still happy you were with me, even if I knew you would much rather be with them. As always I tried to lie to myself; that it was only a phase that would be over soon.

But months turned into years. Your anger grew. And since I am just a passive man, I never did anything to help you. At the same time I worked more. It was all so innocent at first. I had just gotten a divorce and only wanted to take my mind off of things. So I worked more.

Mourning turned into pity, pity turned into isolation, and isolation turned into habit.

So that's how it all ended up. But somehow, miracles do happen. You were a chosen one, destined to save the world. Unknown to me at the time, you had lived almost a year in that Digital World, when only mere hours had passed in this one. And to see how you had changed when you returned…it was amazing.

Of course, you still had troubles. But you had friends now. Places to be, things to do. You fought for good and didn't let the darkness consume you.

You were braver than I could ever be. And the second time you returned, the time you won the final battle over Apocalypmon.. it was as if a weight had been lift off your shoulders. Simultaneously, it eased me as well.

New habits then started to form; you started to go out with friends, talk on the phone. You were the boy my coldness had once destroyed. And it seemed as if you had forgiven me, and moved on.

However, I never changed. I never found the courage to. I have always been weak inside, much to my dismay.

I hear foot steps coming my way into the kitchen as I eat the noodles. You acknowledge that I have returned home and greets me with a tired 'Hi', and I do the same.

We never really speak to each other as we are both men of silence.

"You want some?" I ask with my mouth full and point at the food. You politely say no and claim you have already eaten. I smack myself mentally as that would be the obvious, and continue my eating. Your body soon disappears out of my sight, but you're nearby so I don't pay much mind.

After a while I put the now empty plate in the sink and intend to finally get some sleep. As I cross the living room I notice you are talking on the phone while watching the TV.

"Kids these days…" I mutter to myself. But still, I am proud.

Because you conquered it, the weakness inside. You changed yourself.

Something few people succeed in doing. Something I could never do. And I admire you for that.

I still fear there is something left from your hurtful days, a hidden darkness. A trouble I can't help you with. But at least you've got friends now, and they can help you in ways I never could. You probably don't need me anymore You grew up being independent, the only positive thing you learned from a life with me. But I still fear. Fear that you don't like me, and carry that hatred I have seen before in you. But your eyes are not as cold, and your smiles occur so much more often.

Perhaps you're pretending. Perhaps you still blame me. And perhaps you still mourn the fact that you had to live with me instead of the rest of the family.

But I'll always love you, son.

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Words: 1152  
Pretty darn short for being a piece of writing from me, heh. On the other hand, this was the first thing I wrote. 

Now, why I wrote a piece of a workaholic man who barely gets screentime in the series: Because I love the relationships Yamato has with his family. I love how angsty he was about it, but since we all already have had our fair share of Yama-angsting, I figured the dad could get some of it too. It's only fair, and he was quite a likeable character. Plus, I think I have a thing for workaholics in animes. -.-'

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**Review** time! Tell me your opinion of this. Constructive criticism is highly apprecited.


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